


Lips hit you like a drive-by

by GwiYeoWeo



Series: 99 Problems and a Kink Ain't One [3]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Dom/sub, Kinktober 2019, Light Bondage, M/M, day 5: Bondage, day 5: Frottage, day 7: Leather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 04:15:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwiYeoWeo/pseuds/GwiYeoWeo
Summary: Noctis doesn't need to tell him twice, and Gladio drinks up the absolute vision his King makes. He's given a breath only to have it stolen away, but he makes good on the time he has to appreciate how the black leather makes Noctis' skin look like smooth cream, lightly dusted with pink from his own arousal. Slightly parted lips that look like sin but could bring Gladio to heaven in a heartbeat; tongue so sweet yet so sharp, able to knock the soldier to his knees in more ways than one.Noctis has been away, but he makes it worth the wait.





	Lips hit you like a drive-by

**Author's Note:**

> (ʘ‿ʘ✿)

"You just can't keep your hands to yourself, can you?" 

Gladio doesn't answer, doesn’t look up from his feet, keeps his mouth shut even as Noctis pulls the leather on his wrist tighter, taking one extra notch and pinning his arms to the chair. He knows, they both know, that in reality he'd have no trouble snapping them off or even breaking the chair apart should he have to. But in this play, even a shoddy piece of string would suffice to keep him down. Gladio balls his fist and digs his nails into the hardwood. 

"You can speak."

Gladio hears the hint of approval in Noctis' voice, and he takes a shuddering breath before he even dares to speak. Because while there is the barest touch of softness, there is something absolute in his liege's tone and presence alone. Noctis stands barely a head above him even as Gladio is bound to the chair, but the difference in power and rank separates them like a chasm — deep and begging to be filled yet ever widening. Never mind the fire roiling in his stomach and the hardness between his legs, he has an aching need to just be touched. Or to touch. Both, really. To splay his hands across Noctis' hips and thighs, feel his abnormally cool skin turn hot and flush beneath his palms. 

It's been a week — only a week, but it may as well have been years — of Noctis honing his skills and magic with the Kingsglaive, learning the finer points of warping and the myriad of weapons hidden away in his Armiger. Skills that Gladio and even Cor would not be able to teach him. Gladio had felt a tinge of jealousy and possessiveness at that, knowing some other man or woman would be taking his place as trainer and sparring partner for an entire damn week. It didn't help that Noctis turned Gladio's suffering into pure torture with all the scandalous photos sent: snippets of sweat-slicked skin and that exposed toned stomach, or a full spread of his body displayed across the sheets and a hand playing at the band of his underwear. All teasing and never enough.

Gladio's never been a patient man, and that proved to be his downfall on the day Noctis finally returned to the Citadel, sneaking him into a corner out of everyone’s sights and stealing a desperate kiss. But Noctis had gently pushed him away, despite his own obvious hunger, and softly chided him with a, “Not yet, big guy. I have a present for you tonight.” 

He’s certainly making good on his word, because tonight’s present is Gladio stripped down to his pants and tied down to a chair, Noctis standing like a king in his domain and looking down on Gladio like any other expendable soldier. Because right now, he  _ is _ the King — not Your Highness, but Your Majesty. 

But when he looks up to answer, he realizes his mistake. He was given permission to speak, not to see; and the disapproval in Noctis’ frown makes him shrink into himself, and he should be turning his eyes back down instead of staring but  _ damn _ did Noctis make that impossible for him right now. His breath is stolen at the sleek leather corset that hugs Noctis’ waist just right, giving the illusion of accentuated curves instead of toned muscle underneath. And it’s the strappy number that Gladio has a certain fondness for, the one that crosses over the chest and meets with the studded choker ‘round his King's neck. Gods, did he want to run his tongue over that cool metal and soft leather and ever softer skin. 

A sting to his cheek tosses his head to the side, and he bites down on his lip as he savors the light burn. Noctis also has the crop they ordered the day before he was whisked away to ‘Glaive HQ; nice to know it arrived on time. Gladio expects a reprimand or another blow, but there’s only an abnormal pause and a wait — which he quickly recognizes is Noctis giving him the opportunity to use his safeword should he need to. They may have discussed this the night before, on the surprise phone call that had Gladio scrambling to answer, but it had been a while since the last time they could properly indulge themselves. 

“I didn’t say you could look, did I? Only speak,” Noctis instructs, after receiving the silent consent to continue, “So speak. Do you have a problem with keeping your hands still?”

“I do.”

“Always had a problem with patience.” Noctis clicks his tongue in disapproval, and lightly brushes the crop across Gladio’s lower stomach. He dips down, where the belt buckle is undone and shows a hint of the waistband underneath. “Did you touch yourself while I was gone? 

“No,” Gladio breathes out. It’s true. By some miracle he kept himself for this very night, in hopes of letting all his pent up frustrations out with Noctis in his arms and not in some pictures that would never do him justice. 

"Hmmm, so my Shield wasn't misbehaving behind my back?" 

"No. Never." He wouldn’t ever dream of it. He belongs to Noctis. His body, his literal shield; his heart, to forever hold; his life, to use as needed. Besides, what was the use of a Shield without one to wield it? 

Noctis hums a note of approval, and the sound is more than enough to heal the soreness in his limbs and groin. Between having his own release and his prince’s satisfaction, Gladio would atone for whatever and whenever just to hear sweet praise from those lips.

“Good Shield. You did pretty good, didn’t you? Maybe your patience is getting better after all.” 

Gladio sighs at the words, lapping them up like a dog starved for attention. And he technically is — was — considering he’s been absolutely aching for Noctis the past week. But his King grants him another mercy, the reward he’s been so desperate for, when Noctis takes a half step forward and slides a knee in between Gladio’s parted legs and gently presses against the hardened flesh there. 

He could probably cum right now, if he was given permission. Though he should be content with what he’s been given, he can’t help but want more.  _ Need more. _

But it's enough for him to groan, and Noctis seems to catch it easily enough, to give him what he's so desperate for. 

"I should really punish you. For looking when you're not supposed to. But I feel like being nice today, and I think you deserve a reward for being so loyal," Noctis says, dragging the leather crop up against Gladio's chest and neck, tipping his chin up and guiding his gaze. "You can look."

Noctis doesn't need to tell him twice, and Gladio drinks up the absolute vision his King makes. He's given a breath only to have it stolen away, but he makes good on the time he has to appreciate how the black leather makes Noctis' skin look like smooth cream, lightly dusted with pink from his own arousal. Slightly parted lips that look like sin but could bring Gladio to heaven in a heartbeat; tongue so sweet yet so sharp, able to knock the soldier to his knees in more ways than one. 

"Poor thing. I can see it in your eyes. You're starving, aren't you? What do you need? Tell me." Noctis leans in, lips a hair's width from Gladio's, so close he could taste him. "Beg me."

So he does. 

"Touch me, kiss me. Gods, Your Majesty,  _ anything. _ I need to feel you, have your hands on me, my hands on you. I don't care." Gladio struggles to keep his hands on the armrests, to not just snap his restraints off and devour Noctis, to take him in his mouth or fuck him against the nearest wall. "Please, I'll do anything. I'm going to go crazy. Use me however you want, so just —" 

Noctis shuts him up with the sweetest burn on his lips. He grabs a fistful of hair, thick locks tangled in his fingers, and sharply yanks Gladio's head back to get a better angle. It's hot and messy, Gladio desperate to take in every drop while he can yet making sure to only take what he's given. His scalp hurts, tight from where Noctis keeps his iron hold, but it sends a shiver of thrill down his spine to his cock, and he moans into his King's mouth. Noctis' tongue is  _ mean,  _ conquering and leaving no scraps while Gladio scrambles to keep up lest his master gets bored of him. 

Gladio  _ whimpers  _ after his lips when Noctis pulls away, unable to chase him with the merciless hold on his hair. 

"Ah-ah," Noctis tuts, just a bit breathless. "I know you've been a good Shield, and a good Shield deserves a good reward. Hold on just a little longer for me. Can you do that?" 

Gladio doesn't have a choice, but he'll hold out for as long as he damn well can. "Yes."

"Good boy." 

He shivers from the praise. 

As promised, Noctis slides a hand down Gladio's chest, over the feathered neck of his tattoo, and teases him with just his bare fingertips. Gladio wants to go  _ insane, _ the fleeting touches dangling him just over the edge. But he keeps his words silent, nothing but desperate moans and heady sighs. He wants to be good, be Noctis' perfect Shield, so he waits what seems to be an agonizing eternity until his King finally grants him relief. 

Noctis dips his hand lower, his other still tugging on Gladio's thick locks, and frees the man's cock from his underwear. There's a hiss, something between surprise and ecstasy, when cool air hits hot flesh, but he practically has Gladio singing when he takes him fully in his hand. 

Gladio's huge, in all shapes and sizes, and Noctis can barely wrap his hand around the entire girth. Noctis only lets both his hands go to pop open a bottle of lube and squeeze a generous dollop onto his palm before returning his attention to Gladio. 

"Not yet, Gladdy." Noctis gives him a solid squeeze borderlining on pain. "I didn't say you could cum yet."

Noctis pulls away just enough to pull at the waistband of his own shorts, all black and… Latex? Maybe? Gladio can't tell, but they're skintight and oh so obscene, only covering about half his ass. And gods, how he wants to have his hands on them, feel their firmness beneath his palms and dig his fingers into them. But shit, when he thinks he really can't take anymore of this, Noctis takes his sweet damn time to hook his fingers underneath his shorts and slides them down, in an impossibly smooth motion considering how _tight_ they're on him. There's nothing underneath, or maybe he removed both his underwear and shorts down at once, and his own hard-on is now apparent. 

Gladio's mouth waters, and he's struck with a desperation to get his lips on something again, whether it be Noctis' lips or fingers or cock or anything. 

Noctis perches himself on Gladio's lap, a tight fit considering his thighs press up against the chair arms but he fits snugly enough. Is close enough for Gladio to tip his head forward and feel the warm leather of Noctis' corset against his cheek. 

But his King gives him no reprieve, resumes his fistful of hair and tugs Gladio's head back, revealing that broad arch of his neck and all the fine musculature beneath. When Noctis presses his lips against that taut skin, Gladio feels fire over every centimeter that Noctis lays claim on. 

"Not yet, Gladdy, not yet.” Noctis practically purrs against his throat, and Gladio  _ will fucking obey _ just to feel that soft rumble. “Hold on for me, you can do it." 

Noctis distracts him by claiming his mouth again, and Gladio responds eagerly, parting his lips and letting his King run wild. There’s a moan, but he can’t tell if it’s from him or Noctis, not with the fire roaring in his ears and the urgent need sending his thoughts haywire. Until he feels fingertips tracing the vein along his cock, then something heavier. He realizes it’s Noctis’ own arousal pressing against him, feels a hand wrap them both together. It’s slick, hot, almost frantic with the pace Noctis has them at. 

When Noctis finally allows him a breath, he gives out with a choked sob. He strains against Noctis’ hand, aching to seek more of his touch, to capture it and somehow draw it deeper within. Ah, gods, how much he wanted it all, everything building and budding to this moment. Gladio honestly couldn’t be more desperate yet euphoric at the same time. Finally, he can feel Noctis, feel his hands and his lips and his cock. Finally, he was home again. But excruciatingly,  _ he _ wasn’t allowed to touch Noctis. Wasn’t allowed to come and he was going to  _ die _ if he had to go on for a single minute longer but  _ fucking hell he was going to hold on  _ — 

“You can let go, Gladdy.”

There isn’t even any time to think. Something wild spills through his body, sizzles his nerves and sends them into shock. Noctis lets the grip on his hair go, just in time for Gladio to lean his head down and scream into the crook of his King’s neck. 

Centuries later, Gladio comes to, vaguely aware of the wet warmth splattered across his stomach. Aware of the wet warmth streaming down his cheeks. He sniffs, blinks, sees fingers brushing over his face and a slightly concerned Noctis. 

“You okay?” Noctis asks, with a tone he’d never use within their play. 

Gladio lets everything sink, allows nothing but relief and satisfaction wash over him, and he gives a tired smile in response. “Better than okay,” he sighs, dropping his forehead over Noctis’ shoulder again. 

Noctis runs his hand through Gladio’s hair, soft and tender this time, rubs a soothing thumb at the base of his neck while pressing a kiss to his temple. “Worth the wait?”

Gladio has his eyes closed, but he hears the tinkle of the buckles and feels the restraints on his wrists loosening. Once freed, he wraps himself around Noctis, pins the boy’s arms to his sides and envelops him in one huge, full-bodied hug, breathing in a scent that is undeniably Noctis and the aftermath of their session. It’s a little sticky between them, but he doesn’t care. Noctis doesn’t either, considering the way he nuzzles the side of his head against Gladio’s. 

“Abso-fucking-lutely.”

Noctis laughs, bright and genuine, and they sit there for a while, basking in each other’s warmth and touch. Eventually Noctis nudges him to let go — Gladio woefully does — and as much as he’s able given their size difference, helps him up on his feet and guides him to the bathroom for cleanup. 

The bath’s already prepared, kept warm at the perfect temperature thanks to fancy modern technology, and as much as Gladio likes to harp on roughin’ it in the outdoors, he’s fine with being labeled a hypocrite for times like these. He slides in first, solely because Noctis needs a little more time to peel off his little costume and he's not allowed to help with that, and soaks in the syleblossom salt blend that's already doing wonders to his muscles. 

Not a moment too soon Noctis finally gets his leather tight outfit off and drops it all on the floor. A strip tease would have been nice, but the amount of struggle involved with all the loops and straps only made them both laugh. Gladio pats his chest, wordlessly requesting for Noctis, and he soon gets his prince returned to his lap, back pressed to chest. 

"Missed you. A lot," Gladio murmurs into the crown of Noctis' hair, arms reaching around to hold him in place. As if he'll disappear again as soon as he lets go. 

"I could tell. People keep saying you're like a wolf, but you're more like a big, sappy dog." Noctis pats his arm, angles his neck around to kiss Gladio's jaw. "Big, sappy, and lovable."

It's not a terrible comparison, Gladio thinks; if he had a tail, he'd certainly be wagging it now. Happy that his master is finally home again. 

"Woof."


End file.
